


Not For Your Ears

by Twisted_Mind



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Crack, F/M, Humor, M/M, Male Slash, Non-Graphic Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-26 20:14:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1701101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Mind/pseuds/Twisted_Mind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In between mopping up what was left of the Death Eaters, collecting and organizing information for the Order, and tracking down and reassuring all those who had gone into hiding, there wasn't much to do around Grimmauld Place. Except traumatize Ron, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not For Your Ears

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GhostxWriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostxWriter/gifts).



> Originally posted May 10th 2013 at HP Fandom. Edited upon re-posting here. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Really, now? JKR never made Ron this amusing, so obviously I own nothing.

“What is Kingsley waiting for?” Ron hissed in Hermione’s ear.   
  
She sighed. “Ron, we’ve been over this. Harry was up half the night and wasn’t awake when Kingsley arrived for the Order meeting. Professor Snape is upstairs waking him and filling him in on what he’s missed,” the young witch murmured patiently.   
  
“Well, this is ruddy ridiculous. Harry doesn’t take this long to wake up _ever_ , and I don’t think that _anyone_ should have to come awake to that ugly git,” Ron shot back, keeping his voice low.   
  
Hermione shook her head. “Ron, don’t go up there. Or, if you _must_ fetch Harry, wait another ten minutes,” she ordered firmly.   
  
Ron paid her no mind, marching up the creaking, creepy staircases of Grimmauld Place determinedly. Hermione watched him go, shaking her head. If he could have seen her amused expression, he would have rethought his actions. As it was, he was about to learn the hard way.   
  
Ron could hear his best mate and the greasy git fighting as soon as he was halfway down the corridor. He grinned as he listened to the argument.   
  
“I’m not my father!” That would be Harry’s voice, there. _An old argument, that,_ Ron mused, chuckling.  
  
“Indeed not. A fact I have not failed to notice.” Ron’s brow crinkled; what was Snape playing at? He usually loved taunting Harry about his parentage.   
  
“Mmm, well you don’t seem to mind the demonstration of those differences.” Harry’s voice sounded odd, and Ron quickened his footsteps.   
  
“One can never be too thorough, Mr. Potter.” At the deeply pleased sound of Snape’s voice, Ron ran the last few steps to the door. Snape sounding pleased was never, ever a good sign. It usually meant that someone was in for a world of pain.   
  
“Snape, Harry is needed downstairs so you’d better—” Ron began to holler as he threw the door open, but his voice died in his throat at what he saw. He couldn’t quite wrap his brain around the scene in front of him.   
  
For starters, Harry was starkers. Even stranger, he seemed to be hovering over Snape, moving rhythmically.   
  
Snape: who was mostly hidden behind Harry, but whose legs were bare, indicating that he was probably starkers, too.   
  
After a few more blinks in which the scene before him didn’t change, Ron’s brain finally wrapped itself around what he was seeing. He wished it hadn’t.   
  
Hermione sat at the table smiling like the cat that ate the canary when Ron came tumbling back down screeching, “My eyes! My _eyes_!”

She did warn him, after all.   
  


***

  
  
Ron was simply too traumatized by what he had seen to check Harry for the Imperius Curse when he came downstairs with Snape ten minutes later. But that was okay. He remembered later, and cast the spell at his friend’s back when Harry wasn’t looking.   
  
The ringing slap upside his head from Hermione meant that she had been, though.   
  
  


***

  
  
A few days later, Ron was ready to admit that perhaps he’d simply gone barmy from all the war nonsense. There was no way he could have seen what he thought he saw, especially as he’d spent every waking hour checking and triple-checking Harry for any signs of love potions, curses, hexes, spells, or any other sort of magical interference. There was none.   
  
So when Ron announced that he was going to go ask Harry if he could trounce the Chosen One at Wizard’s Chess, he was annoyed when Hermione offered to play him instead. As much as he loved his girlfriend, she was pants at chess. Harry wasn’t really much good, but even he was better than _Hermione_ and they all knew it.   
  
“No, that’s okay. I know that you’re more interested in that book you were reading earlier,” he responded, shaking his head.   
  
For some odd reason, she sighed. “Ron, don’t go looking for Harry right now. If you really are looking for a decent opponent, then I’m sure your sister will oblige you.” From across the room, Ginny nodded her agreement.   
  
Her reluctance however, must have been more obvious than usual, because Ron picked up on it. “Hermione, really—Ginny would rather finish writing that letter than play with me. And, really, I don’t mind. Besides, if I don’t trounce Harry every once in a while, how will he ever get better?” Ron asked cheekily, turning to head upstairs.   
  
"Honestly, I thought you’d learned better by now. Don’t go looking for Harry. You’ll only see things you don’t want to see,” Ginny said solemnly. Ron just snorted. Baby sisters—and brainiac girlfriends—thought they knew everything, but best mates sometimes knew things too.   
  
He marched up the stairs.   
  


***

  
  
Ronald Weasley was not a dumb man. No. It only took something happening _once_ for him to learn. So this time, when he reached the door of Harry’s bedroom, he stopped and listened for a moment.   
  
When all he heard was, “Wizards we may be, Potter, but permanent damage is still a possibility if you don’t _hold still_ ,” in Snape’s lazy drawl, he figured that he was in the clear.   
  
But when Ron knocked before pushing the door open, he thought that he was probably experiencing another one of those strange hallucinations. Only this time, Harry was stretched out—starkers! Again! Did the bloke ever get dressed?—against the wall, and Snape’s hand was moving suspiciously.   
  
On Harry’s bits. 

***

  
  
When Ron came down the stairs, muttering about seeing a Healer for hallucinations, Ginny turned to an enraged Hermione with a smug, “Pay up.” Hermione fished the Galleon out of her pocket and chucked it at her friend, who merely caught it with a laugh.   
  
  


***

  
  
Ron thinks it odd that his mum won’t call Harry down for dinner, so he decides that he’s going to go find the skinny git so his mum can stop fussing.   
  
Imagine his surprise when—instead of thanking him—his mum says, “No worries, dear. He’ll come down as soon as he can, and I’ll just put this under a Warming Charm until then.”  
  
Ron blinks. Then, “Who are you and what have you done with my mum?” He thinks it’s a valid question, but she merely huffs at him and turns away.   
  
It’s Hermione who stands in his way, blocking the exit. “Ron, you don’t want to go get Harry right now,” she says slowly, like she’s speaking to someone of pitiable intellect.   
  
“But it’s dinner!” Ron protests, horror painting his voice at the thought of _missing out on food_.   
  
“Ron, I didn’t want to have to say this, but you leave me no other choice,” Hermione sighs. “If you walk upstairs to go and get Harry now, you are going to walk in on him shagging Snape.”   
  
Ron shakes his head, his expression mulish. “No. No way, Hermione. I got my head looked at, and the Healer says that I shouldn’t have any more hallucinations.”   
  
Hermione steps aside. To Ron’s surprise, she does decide to follow behind him. Ron listens at the door as he taps softly.   
  
“Potter, is that _really_ the best you can do? How disappointing. I truly thought you more capable.” Snape’s voice, soft and deep, drifts through the closed door.   
  
“See, ‘Mione? It’s just Snape being Snape,” Ron states triumphantly, before easing the door open.   
  
Only to see Harry on his knees, his lips stretched around a part of Snape that Ron never, _ever_ wanted to think about. He pulls the door shut quickly.   
  
Hermione—who had remained a few steps behind him, and thus hadn’t seen into the room where _that_ was most assuredly _not_ happening—asked calmly, “Well? Are they shagging?”   
  
“No,” Ron whimpers. Though what, exactly, he’s saying ‘no’ to, Hermione can’t be sure. She repeats her question, but Ron merely shakes his head.   
  
Poking her head in the room, her eyes widen and her cheeks flush at the sight of Harry’s mouthful. All she can say is “Close enough,” as she guides Ron back downstairs.   
  


***

  
  
After the third time images of Harry and Snape were seared so deep into his brain that even an _Obliviate_ could never dig them out, Ron was forced to concede that he wasn’t hallucinating. He had to admit that his best mate and the nasty old bat were shagging. For that, Hermione was intensely grateful.   
  
She was less grateful when Ron’s response to this admission was to wear a blindfold around Grimmauld. Ginny and the twins thought it was hilarious. Hermione finally had to agree after she gave up trying to keep her boyfriend from walking into things. It was much more entertaining to simply watch him make a prat of himself.   
  


***

  
  
Ron was understandably cautious now. He was only going to Harry’s room to ask if he could borrow nail clippers from his friend. His aim with that particular spell had never been good, and you could only regrow fingers and toes so many times. As he raised his fist to knock, Ginny suddenly appeared out of nowhere, like she’d Apparated silently. Ron jumped. He grew even more scared at the predatory grin on her face.   
  
Ron knocked carefully, one eye towards his baby sister. Whenever she looked like that, there was trouble in your future. Usually the painful kind.  
  
“What?” he asked nervously.  
  
Ginny merely shook her head at the door, telling him not to go in. Ron wondered why she wasn’t just snapping at him like she usually would. As he was about to knock again, Harry’s voice suddenly rose into a deafening shriek.   
  
“NO! LET GO!”   
  
Without thinking, Ron threw the door wide, heart pounding in terror at what, precisely, could have made Harry scream like that. The cause, unfortunately, seemed to be an earth-shattering orgasm, care of the head of greasy hair hovering over his groin. Ron shut his eyes as he pulled the door shut, shaking his head in a pitiful attempt to shake the images from his brain.   
  
Ginny stared at him, wondering if he was going to fly into hysterics. His horrified-but-calm demeanour lasted until Harry and Snape’s voices drifted into the corridor.   
  
“That was cheating, you traitorous bastard!”   
  
“Not so. The rules were that the first to come bottoms. I win. Now respect your elders and present your arse.”   
  
And with that, Ron fainted dead away.   
  


***

  
  
Harry wasn’t sure why, exactly, his friends were displaying such weird behaviours, but it was amusing nonetheless. Ron kept shooting him the strangest looks, Hermione was either amused or furious with her boyfriend by turns, and Ginny seemed possessed by some sort of frightening glee. The twins, of course, were slinging around bawdy jokes and innuendo so frequently that Harry had the mental picture of a cartoon-Harry with red light bulbs in his cheeks that had blown out from all his blushing.   
  
He shrugged, however, paying all the oddness little mind. As it was, Kingsley had a task for him, and it was important. So that was what he focussed on.   
  
Well, mostly. 

***

  
  
“Hermione, no, okay? No! I get it, I do—it’s been hilarious for you lot to watch me be scarred for life, but you’re not gonna do it to me _again_!” Ron shouted, his face red and his arms wind-milling about frantically after Hermione asked him to go check on Harry.   
  
Her eyes narrowed. “Ron, I’m not going to deny that your complete lack of observational skills has been amusing these last couple of weeks, but I’m not faffing about here. Harry was seriously injured on the last mission Kingsley sent him on, so stop flapping about the gums and go make sure your _best friend_ is still alive,” she snapped sharply, brooking no argument. Ron gulped, and nodded. He’d already survived walking in on Harry and Snape, and he’d survive if it happened again. Probably. He definitely _wouldn’t_ survive making Hermione any more cross with him, though.   
  
Outside Harry’s bedroom door, Ron took several deep breaths, trying to steel himself for what was to come. If he knocked very, very loudly, and only opened his eyes a tiny slit, then there was the slightest possible chance that he might not see anything that would give him nightmares. Maybe.   
  
Ron knocked, but there was no answer. He knocked again, but still—nothing. Frowning, Ron realized that there was a disturbing, unnatural silence lurking about. He raised his wand and cast _Finite_. As soon as he did, he realized that there must’ve been a Silencing Spell up. His face coloured as brilliantly as his hair at what he heard.   
  
“Ah! I can’t . . .” Harry whined breathlessly.   
  
“Just a little more, almost there . . .” Snape murmured, his voice low and strained.   
  
Ron knocked loudly, hoping that Fred and George would soon invent a way to make someone’s ears retract into their skull. He’d even volunteer—being deaf for a while would be ruddy brilliant after this.   
  
Harry was still whining, and Snape was making soft hushing sounds. Ron decided that the time for knocking was past, but couldn’t bring himself to actually open the door, and so resolved to merely come back in half an hour. He turned to see his girlfriend glaring at him. He gulped, and sent up a quick prayer to Merlin.   
  
Hermione, however, merely pushed past him and threw the door wide. Ron’s eyes slammed shut of their own accord, and he flinched when Snape barked out “What?”   
  
Carefully, he peeked out from under one eyelid, and surprise made his eyes pop wide.   
  
Snape was kneeling on the floor before Harry, who was sitting on the bed naked from the waist up. Snape was smoothing balms and potions over Harry’s mutilated torso in-between winding fresh bandages around him.   
  
“Honestly, Ron, I _told_ you to come up here and check on them. What on earth did you _think_ they were doing?” Hermione asked peevishly.   
  
Ron’s eye started to twitch.   
  
  
  



End file.
